


Monday Night Tradition

by Morgana



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Hand Job, M/M, Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-01
Updated: 2010-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:29:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/Morgana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Monday nights always meant sports, beer... and a very special kind of sex</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monday Night Tradition

Halfway through the third round of drinks, he felt it. Angel nearly choked on his drink when a hand settled high up on his thigh, thumb slowly stroking the inseam of his jeans. He managed to swallow and tried to focus on the conversation across the table, but it wasn't easy to do, especially when the first light touch ghosted over his erection in a light caress. Fingers slid along his length, and the desire to thrust up against them was almost overpowering, especially since he'd been hard ever since they sat down. Five of them in the small booth made for pretty crowded conditions, and a muscular thigh pressed against his provoked a reaction Angel couldn't control.

Monday nights at Rick's had been a tradition for almost three years now, ever since they all started UC Sunnydale. Football, basketball, hockey, baseball, even soccer sometimes when there was nothing else on - whatever the game was really didn't matter as much as the chance to have a night away from girlfriends, parents, and school. Thanks to Wesley and Lindsey, they'd get cheap beer, stuff themselves with pretzels and hot wings, and pass the time yelling at the TV, bitching about their problems, and, in Angel's case, getting a hand job that threatened to blow to the top of his head off.

It always started the same way, with the same light caress that had nearly brought him off his seat that first time. He'd sat frozen through it, afraid to move for fear that someone would notice but at the same time aroused beyond anything he'd ever known, and when he'd finally come, he'd nearly blacked out from it. The petrifying fear of that first time had passed, but the thrill of being jerked off right in front of his friends and the edge of being caught still gave the whole thing an incredible eroticism.

One finger moved up and down over his shaft, a slow tease that lasted until the waitress set the hot wings and onion blossom on the table. Spike always insisted on the appetizers, and while everybody else complained good-naturedly about the spicy smells, they still managed to finish every bite by the time they left. When Angel filled two small plates and passed one to Spike, he was rewarded with the feel of all four fingers curling over him, squeezing gently. He swallowed hard and set the plate down, then picked a piece of onion up and tried to nibble on it without killing himself.

The next three hours were absolute torture. While the Cowboys stomped all over the Giants on the field, Angel sat as still as possible, held captive by the hand that explored him through his jeans. His hand shot out to grip the thigh next to his when he felt himself starting to leak, and a napkin slid over his crotch, then disappeared. They'd learned about needing that the hard way, when things had gotten wet and slippery way too early one night and he'd come in his jeans like a fifteen year old, coughing to cover his groan as he shot right in front of his friends. Luckily, Spike had spilled almost a whole bottle of beer all over him before they left, so the conspicuous wet spot on his jeans disappeared beneath the flood of alcohol that left him soaked from the waist down.

Fingertips slid up and down his erection, molding the denim to his shape, then tugging it loose again. There was never enough speed or friction to get him off like this, but every little touch went straight to his balls until they were tight and aching. He managed to listen to Spike's tirade against American football, laugh at Gunn's dirty jokes and even tell a few himself, talk to Wesley about his latest psych test, and tease Lindsey when the Giants finally got a touchdown, but through it all, he was counting the minutes in his head until he could finally come.

Clever fingers stroked over his balls, cupping the tight flesh for a too-short second before they went back to petting his dick, teasing around the tip to make more precome spurt out into the napkin, and slowly driving him crazy. Angel clenched his teeth and promised himself that no matter what, he'd make sure the Monday night tradition continued. A scream built up in the back of his throat, and when everyone yelled out at an interception, he let out a small moan, then coughed to cover it. At this rate, his friends were going to think he was one of those junkies that was always sick, but with that talented hand working his dick over so sweetly, he didn't think he cared.

“You okay, mate?” Spike asked, chuckling at the dirty look he got in return. If anyone should know why he was so very not okay, it was the blond who was currently pushing him closer and closer to a phenomenal orgasm.

“Fine,” Angel ground out, glaring at him when he squeezed him a little harder. The little shit always loved this, was always after him to push the limits of what they did, and the worst part was that he was right. Fucking in public was the hottest thing he'd ever done, and fucking in front of his unknowing friends was guaranteed to get him off harder than anything else.

It wasn't that his friends weren't aware that he was bisexual, not when it had been Wes to give him his first kiss. No, they just didn't know that he was fucking Spike, and neither of them were really inclined to tell anybody right now. Maybe after college, when they wouldn't be able to use the housing office as an excuse for living together, but at the moment, having a secret like this was just too fucking hot for either of them to give up.

Spike's magic fingers had begun to rub over him in tiny circles, speeding up just enough to make him even harder. He felt like he could cut glass, and when circles began short, quick lines that made him tingle, Angel couldn't hold back a low groan. Thankfully, everybody was busy laughing at one of Gunn's jokes, and didn't seem to notice. He opened his mouth to say something, but the fingers slipped behind his balls and pressed up against the sensitive spot there, and he coughed instead.

“Could get you a cough drop,” Spike suggested, with a truly evil smile.

Angel swallowed a moan, then retorted, “Yeah, and I could always give you that spanking your parents forgot to take care of, so fuck off.” The tip of his dick throbbed when Spike caught it in his fingers and gave it a gentle pinch, and he knew the mention of the spanking had turned his lover on as much as it had him. He closed his eyes for a second, thinking of Spike laying over naked over his lap, of his hand turning the pale skin of that gorgeous ass red, and he had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from coming.

It almost wasn't enough, though, and Spike's grin told him the blond had felt his dick jump in his hand. Grabbing hold of a bottle, Angel took a long swallow, grateful when another pass over the tip of his cock was followed by a hard hold at the base to help hold him back. He was beginning to get desperate, though, almost desperate enough to risk the humiliation of everyone seeing his erection so long as he could come up with some reason he just had to go to the bathroom, when fate intervened and saved him the potential embarrassment.

“Think I'm gonna hit the head, y'all. Be right back,” Gunn told them, nudging Wes to move.

Wesley slid out, and sighed. “Since I'm up... another round?” He nodded at the enthusiastic chorus that answered him, heading to the bar where the young waitress he fancied happened to be placing an order.

“Two down, one to go,” Spike muttered, then raised his voice. “Hey, Lindsey, someone's checkin' you out, mate.” He jerked his head at the brunette a few tables over, then squeezed Angel a little harder when the young man turned to look.

Lindsey studied the woman, who gave him an almost feline smile as she raised her wine glass. She wasn't exactly his type- a little too sleek and stylish compared to the girls he preferred, but something about her confidence was alluring enough to convince him to at least try. “If I'm not back in ten minutes, feel free to leave without me,” he told his friends with a grin, then grabbed the last unopened bottle and headed over to her table.

Once he was gone, Angel shifted, turning towards Spike. “Hurry,” he begged. “I need - oh, God!” He fought to keep quiet when Spike's answer to his plea was to unzip his jeans and slide his hand inside, gripping him tightly.

“Fuck, you're hard,” he muttered, jerking him with quick, short flicks of his wrist. His thumb rubbed over the tip and Angel groaned softly.

“Your fault,” he reminded him, hips twitching with the need to thrust up into Spike's hand. Having to keep still was always the hardest part of this, but it also seemed to make him come harder than usual, too. “Just so we're clear, you do know you're getting fucked as soon as we get back, right?”

Spike's smile was almost enough to make him forget all the rules. “Countin' on it,” he purred. “Got myself all slicked up an' ready for it, too. Wearin' that black plug, the one with all the bumps an' -”

“Shit, coming!” Angel gasped. His cock jerked in Spike's hand, shooting hard enough to make him see spots as come soaked the napkin Spike managed to get over the tip. He was only half-aware of hands tucking him away and zipping him up, and when Spike sat back seconds before Gunn slid into the booth, he realized how close they'd really come to getting caught. His cock twitched, and he had to bite back a groan as it tried to harden again. What was it about Spike that got him so freaking hot? Then he thought about the plug the blond was wearing and remembered - oh yeah, he was a demon in bed.

Draining his beer, he set the bottle down and gave Spike a shove. “C'mon, let's go. I gotta get to bed soon or I'm never gonna make it up for my first class.”

Grumbling under his breath about poncy wankers who got up way too early because they had to spend hours in the bathroom, Spike stood up and pulled his coat on, then nodded at Gunn and headed for the door. Angel said his own good-byes and followed him out. When he got outside, there was no sign of Spike, and he smiled. Looked like it was his turn to play.

He walked into the alley behind the bar, already eager for the next round of games. Spike was leaning against the brick wall, one palm rubbing over the bulge in his jeans in a mouth-watering display. “Took your sweet time,” he teased. “Almost gave up an' took care of it myself.”

“You're just begging for that spanking, aren't you?” Angel knocked his hand away, popping the buttons on the tight jeans open as he sank to his knees on the asphalt. He pulled Spike's cock out, licking his lips at the sight of the skin stretched tight and shining with precome.

“Too much talkin', need more suckin'.” Long fingers sank into his hair and guided him forward. Angel opened eagerly for him, tongue flicking out to lick the wet tip. “Not gonna last long after watchin' you in there,” Spike warned, then groaned as he closed his mouth around him and began to suck.

Yes, Monday nights were definitely a tradition he wanted to keep going.


End file.
